


What Comes Around

by BrittanyWilton230



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-10-05 11:32:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17324243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrittanyWilton230/pseuds/BrittanyWilton230
Summary: Josephine's life had never been easy, but she hadn't realised that bad luck wasn't new for her soul. A past life that leaves her longing for a person that's hidden behind a large door, the world isn't ready for magic to come back. But it seems what comes around, will stay wither we want them to or not.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What Comes Around](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142077) by [Vathara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vathara/pseuds/Vathara). 



She wished she could say that the dark had never scared her. But that would be a terrible lie and her mother had taught her better. As a child, the dark had terrified her, while the black butterflies petrified. More so; when they circled around people, almost as if she had known that they would never see their loved ones again, never go into the peaceful plains of the afterlife.

She highly doubted it. She didn’t know what the butterflies were, let alone what they meant. That wasn’t so much the case anymore, he had told her what they were, what the differences between light and dark Rukh meant. Promised that he would fix everything that they had tried to destroy; hope, love and joy. Even through it meant that he would need to go away for a while.

His plan had to work, not just for them. But for everyone who had survived, for those grasping at loved ones and cried for those lost to her old hero’s plans.

To work, she would be the first one to go, they all would in the end. Abd-al-Hakin had near-destroyed this world, like they had done to he’s world. And like before, those who were left behind would be forced to build a new.

Like father, like son, she had been told. Not from anyone in her world, but from the one before. The eighty-one souls that had survived from the first known world, the world of magic and chains.

Not that it mattered. Closing her eyes, she walked closer to the golden door. Golden butterflies flying past her head, a smile on her face.

Walking past posts with old writing, she didn’t flinch when the door closed with a loud bang. Darkness closing in as it did so, but unlike before. She wasn’t scared, he wouldn’t allow her to fade from this world by herself.

“We’ll met again,” he whispered. “You’ll wait for me? Promise me you will.”

“Always,” she whispered. Disappearing into a thousand butterflies. “For as long as my soul exists.”


	2. Alaeddin

His older brother had gotten slightly bored, it would seem.

Alaeddin’s room was neater and more organised than it had been when he went to sleep. He only hoped that Calvin hadn’t gotten the bright idea and had gone into other Magi’s rooms, since he was sure that Cleopatra wouldn’t be happy with someone seeing her so defenceless.

Unlike his fellow Magi, he didn’t mind anyone seeing him as he slept, he had shared a room before. Stacks of books pushed towards the walls, he traced his fingers over one such stack before realising that Calvin’s bored cleaning hadn’t been what had woken him up.

What had woken him up? Which led him to his next question, how long had he and the other Magi been asleep for? Had they been able to stop the world’s Rukh from going black, stop people from falling into complete despair? Keeping them away from their loved ones, only because they had died hating the world.

Watching Ahalya fall into despair had been heart breaking enough, her skin going from pale to inky black. Pulled into despair without being allowed to defend herself, since using any of her magical energy would have made the infection spread quicker.

Ahalya had not been a happy camper. Nor was Miya, from what Alaeddin could remember. She had pouted more than she did when he first met her.

“Jada’s wisdom.” The voice that echoed in his home was deep and clearly male. Loud as well, but Alaeddin doubted that it was like that most of the time. At least he could answer one of his questions; intruders.

Closing his eyes shut, he could only pray that Calvin was alright, Rukh knew how long it had taken his older brother to put himself back together the first time around. Honestly, he was a little too gentle to people who broke into their home.

For example; Sinbad, David and whoever the booming voice belonged to. Along with the owner of the second set of light footsteps and light breathing. It wasn’t like he needed Miya’s hearing to hear them, the castle echoed everything.

“Peterke, are you sure this is the place?” a second voice asked, her voice was deeper then Ahalya and Miya’s had been. Alaeddin was sure that was a given, but they had as much steel under their words as Miya and Morio did.

Slipping behind white curtains, he was just glad that Calvin had placed four doors in his room, two of them leading to nowhere. The voices didn’t match anyone he knew.

A known enemy was better than an unknown one. Ahalya would agree with him on that one, more so after what happened with Duhkha.

“Patience Ibolya,” Peterke told her. Alaeddin placed his hand on the door, closing it behind him so that they wouldn’t be able to follow. “We’ve been looking for Jada’s Wisdom for centuries. Since the first text had been translated.”

“So, the French beat the English?” Ibolya asked, her voice fading out as he reached the front room. Calvin’s room, the one where he kept most of his unread books.

Alaeddin Jada didn’t leave his family behind, not unless someone dragged him out kicking and screaming. He knew healing magic, had been taught it by several different people.

Calvin, Alaeddin thought, pushing the door opened and running towards his brother. Someone had broken his arm, along with his leg and collarbone.

He was hurt. He didn’t know what he was going to do about it, none of his friends really held revenge in high-esteem. Justice yes, but not revenge. He had seen revenge in action, watched as it consumed most of his friend’s life and caused him to fall. Nor was he going to follow the mindset of the person who almost destroyed the world, on his king’s psychopathic grandfather’s orders.

The bones had been easy to heal, along with the necessary spell that would keep his brother out of Ibolya’s and Peterke’s line of sight. Now only his follow Magi would be able to find his brother, along with King Solomon’s djinn.

Holding his staff in front of himself, he moved all his brother’s things back into his room. At least he wouldn’t be the one who wracked texts that were thousands of years old, that no longer existed because the worlds they had come from didn’t exist either.

“Hello Aladdin,” Peterke told him, black hair greying as he looked at him with aged blue eyes. The woman next to him was younger, her black hair and eyes making her skin look paler then what it was.

“He doesn’t look like much,” Ibolya remarked.

Alaeddin tipped his head to the side, before copying Ahalya, allowing a fire ball to hover over his head. Throwing it, he had all but screamed when black chains tied him to the floor.

“That should keep you out of trouble,” Peterke remarked, wrinkled hands resting on his head. “Now you’ll be coming with us, Seal of Solomon.”


	3. Ja'far

From the moment that Ja'far had met Kieran Cavins, the moment he had recognised the King of the Seven Seas, First King of Sanjiv, he knew his life was going to be as far from boring as one could imagine. Ja'far had ran into the idiot in a Ukrainian forest, a forest that was edging the border with Russia.

It turned out the idiot was here with a film set but had ended up having to run away from three pissed off female bears after running into one of their cubs. Моронові аутсайдера, moronic outsider, his tribe had called those who'd ended up on the wrong side of a Ukrainian Mama bear.

An actor in this lifetime; Royalty when he last ran into the man's soul.

At the time, he didn't know how accurate he was until Kieran retired from acting, indie films and Hollywood. Retired to open Warwick High School, a dream school created to teach teenagers how to make indie films; show them what worked and what didn't.

Along with why something might work in one film, one TV show or Movie, but might not work in another. Dark realism being high on that list in Ja'far's mind, Hollywood seemed to over do it and he found himself bored with the whole consent depressive tone.

Now he had met the second person who he thought was going to make his life more interesting then it needed to be; Josephine Ryans. But where Ja'far could pinpoint who Kieran was, for some reason, he was having a harder time doing the same with Miss Ryans.

Most likely due to the fact that he had met her in the safety of the school grounds.

Her golden eyes reminded him of someone, someone who got into as much trouble as the First King of Sanjiv did. The Fourth Queen of Duhkha was a charming young woman, but she was a небезпека магніт -danger magnet.

Her hair was the wrong colour, messy brown instead of a golden blonde. But then, Kieran's hair colour was wrong as well, brown instead of a dark shade of violet. Kieran had corrected that after one of Ja'far's drunk comments.

"Miss Ryans," Ja'far greeted as she sat down, it wouldn't do to be lost in a lifetime he wasn't meant to remember.

"Mr Black said you needed to see me, I'm not in trouble?" Josephine asked him.

"No Miss Ryans," Ja'far told her. Kieran had merely placed her into his Theatre Track class, a class he personally taught and hand-picked students to join. It also meant that Ja'far and the school's teachers were used to student's changing their timetables in the first few weeks of a semester. "You don't know why you're here?"

"No sir," Josephine admitted.

"Mr Cavins has placed you in his Theatre Track class," Ja'far told her. "And we'll need to change your timetable."

"Theatre track?"

"Stage work Miss Ryans. Some students take up Swordplay."

"You mean LARP?"

"Larp?"

"Live action roll play, there's medieval Warhammer-like group somewhere."

"Then yes, Miss Ryans."

"He wants me on stage?"

"You don't have to be on stage Miss Ryans," Ja'far told her. He had been the reason she had fought on stage the first time, a wooden short sword as Kieran looked at her with a fake cutlass in his hand. "More likely film work, he thinks you and Miss MacLea will do well together."

"I don't mind the timetable my father gave me," she told him after a long pause, taking the highlighter he was giving her anyway. The subjects that Mr Sliversmith had picked were ones someone wanting to get into law or crime investigation would need.

"You want to go into law?" Ja'far asked her.

"Not really," she admitted.

"You should then!" Kieran told her leaning against the door frame, he was going to maim his friend later. Later as in when he didn't have Josephine was in hearing range; he didn't want to scare her.

He wanted her to trust him.

Josephine's skin was still slightly red from the fever that doctors swore should have killed her; so, P.E was one of the first things he had removed from her schedule and replaced with Spanish instead.

"Such a waste of talent!" Kieran continued walking to sit down on the chair to his right, elbows resting on his knees. "You have the reflexes and the grip of a swordsman, well swordswoman."

"I don't think you remember me falling over your feet," Josephine reminded him twirling the highlighter in her hand. "After thirty seconds."

"You'll get better," Ja'far told her, she would need to keep English, Maths and Biology. Along with Track, so that meant he could pick Spanish and something else. Dance, that would help her with her footwork.

It did help that Abigail was in most of the classes that he placed her in, other than Spanish since Abigail was studying Scottish Gaelic. Besides, he had a feeling that she would be fine, and he hoped Cole's lessons helped her before she ran into trouble.

Placing the printed timetable in front of her, tapping on the table. He wanted to make sure she was fine with it, and if not, what she wanted to have changed. "How's this?"

"How'd you know?" Josephine asked him. "About the Spanish lessons."

"Your last school sent us your old timetable," he told her. "Do you want to continue taking it?"

"Sí, Señor."

"You were missing an art subject," Kieran told her, while Ja'far knew that he wasn't controlling his meeting with Josephine, he also knew that Kieran wanted her in his Track class and would make sure she ended up in it. "I find it's a good way to deal with stress, help hide things parents won't approve of."

Ja'far was going to have to shack answers out of Kieran, later always later, more so since Josephine lost what little colour she had in her skin. Planning to run from a situation she need to be in, or want to be in, it was a her thing to do.

"So why not art? Make up?" Josephine asked him sneaking glances out of the nearest window. "Mr K's there must be an art class, sorry, I can't say your last name."

"Most can't," he assured her, it was the reason he had picked it in the first place.

"It'll be a waste of talent, Miss Ryans," Kieran repeated shacking his head, dyed dark violet hair pulled into a low ponytail, another thing he had started doing after another one of Ja'far's drunk comments.

He stopped drinking around the man; since he didn't need him going to work in his 'Sinbad the Sailor' costume.  
"I've trained stunt man and woman for years, years before Mr Kyrksen and I created this school," he continued sighing. "Years before I even thought about opening a school for that taught students to make indie films."

Now instead of just merely maiming he wanted to hit Kieran over the head, with a chainsaw if it was possible to locate one on such short notice. A shovel would also do, that man had the thickest skull that Ja'far had seen on anyone. Besides the Red Lions, but they scared Ja'far at the best of times.  
Josephine was looking at Kieran like he had lost the point, like she was wondering why the man wasn't in a mental ward. He didn't blame her, he had thought the same thing for the few years knowing the man.

Now it was just; Kieran's being Kieran.

"A month, I give you a month," Kieran told her, his grin widening. "We'll give you a month, then I'll get you back on stage."

"By myself?" Josephine asked him.

"You were by yourself last time," Kieran told her. "And besides, I know the perfect swords master. Ja'far, you think the MacLeans will teach her?"

"Ask Ajay, but I don't see why not," Ja'far told him, glad that the day was almost over. He wasn't cruel enough to change her timetable in the morning. That would mean they'd both miss their first class.

He'd have to add in Cole's and Ajay's classes to her timetable then, now he could only hope that she didn't get caught in the middle of their arguments. At least this way, it'll take Josephine out of the Sliversmith home for the weekend.

"Here," Ja'far told her, while handing her the final copy of her timetable.

"Thank you," Josephine told him.

"Mr Nico and Mr MacLean's costs are in our school fees," Ja'far told her.

"Thank you, Mr K."

"Wait here," Kieran told her looking at Ja'far's computer screen, before nodding his head and writing something on a piece of paper. "I'll get the school books you need, they're new and haven't been used."

"But…."

"I'm the reason you need new books," he told her, gently cutting her off before she could begin to protest. Ja'far might be able to figure out who she was soon, after all, only the Queen of Duhkha would protest someone wasting money on her. "I always buy a few; just in case I get another student into Track."

"Nothing's going to change his mind," Ja'far told her. "Kieran, Cole and I wrote the book you use in Theatre track. Ajay MacLean wrote the second on, so you can't buy either one in store, we also have a few basic books in Spanish, but I would recommend getting your favourites, most students read Harry Potter."  
"Where do I find Harry Potter in Spanish?" Josephine asked him.

"It'll be one of the series that Mr Cavins will give you," Ja'far admitted. "We find it's easier to learn a language if you use it."

"Like having a secret language between friends," Josephine admitted. "I… thank you."

"I'll see you tomorrow in homegroup."

"And biology."

"Here you are," Kieran told her as he walked back into the room, a backpack in his hands, along with a tote bag. "Everything you need is in here. Along with a few suggested reads from Mrs Lopez."


	4. Josephine

By the end of the day; Josephine wished she had stayed in bed, heavens forbid she knew she could get away with it now. Her temperature wasn’t the lowest, and her father had told her that she could take some time from school if she needed it. 

That meant going to the doctors, and that was one bill she didn’t want to think about. Miss Tanya would be disappointed in her, she had told her that school was important and that she wished she was able to go more when she was younger. 

She was just glad that her new teachers had pulled her aside to reassure her that they were used to Mr Calvin, to hand in any of the first week’s homework when she could and not stress too much about it. It took some of the pressure off her shoulder, before worrying about how she was going to get everything done before the end of the year. 

The one good thing about today, Abigail MacLea had told her to avoid the school’s kitchen on Fridays. Since the school’s football team had a habit of making punch on Fridays, and according to Abigail they failed a lot at making said punch.

And any failed attempts were thrown out the window, making Josephine blinked when the others in her dance class talk about how many times, they walked home in Freshman year covered in failed alcoholic punch. 

Apart from her Spanish class, it would seem Abigail was in the rest of her classes. At least now she didn’t have to take that Legal Aid class, it had almost bored her to tears learning about laws that were so old that they were mostly ignored. 

Instead, she was going to be in the spotlight. A spotlight that her family had spent years avoiding. The Ryans family didn’t enjoy being in the spotlight, at least not from what she had researched. 

Sitting down at an empty table near the football field, she looked at her English homework and chose to write something about her mother’s family. Her mother, Olive Ryans, was an independent blogger and reporter, which meant that Josephine had learnt early on that it was better to just post something and disappear into the background. 

That it was better to allow readers to make up their own minds about the information that they were sharing, instead of pushing an agenda onto them. Her grandfather, Jacob Ryans, was a solider in WWII and fought in both the pacific islands and Europe. 

From what she had gathered from reading her grandmother’s and grandfather’s journals from the time. He was nineteen when he met her grandmother in Poland and brought her to America as his legal wife. 

Her grandmother was the most interesting of the pair, Josephine found. Born Katanya Wozniak, but she changed her name to Catherine Ryans. She had been tortured at the hands of the Nazi Germans, being known as a Polish Rabbit, thinking about what happened to her grandmother made Josephine’s blood boil. Since those injuries were the reason she had died when her mother was ten years old. 

How she hated the Nazi’s. 

But she was also proud of her heritage and no one, she meant no one, could make her think otherwise. Finishing her dot points, she looked over them and thought about adding Sliversmith family into it. 

“Too dull,” Josephine whispered to herself, putting that folder away and picking up her copy of Macbeth by Shakespeare. Mostly known as the Scottish Play since many believed it to be cursed to say it in Theatres. 

If she was going avoid going home, then she might as well finish as much of her homework as she could. Even it meant reading a play that was hunted, by a man that romanticize suicide in Romeo and Juliet. 

She didn’t know how she had been studying for, she didn’t know. If she had to guess, then she’d say she’d been sitting at the school for about two hours after the bell rang. But she’s been wrong in the past about how long she can study for, even how long she’ll work on her own blog posts. 

The moment she put everything away, and dropped her bag on the ground, everything in front of her went black. Like someone had turned off the lights, which in of itself was strange has she was outside, and the sun didn’t have a turn off switch.   
And the fact that the buildings, tables and plants also seemed to have magically disappeared along with it. The only thing around her was the same inky black colour, occasionally a golden butterfly would fly near her ear and she could have sworn some of them whispered to her.

‘Queen Ahalya, the Queen of Seven of Solomon’s Djinn.’ 

Before she could question her own sanity, before she wondered if she had died and moved on to the afterlife. A blue haired male appeared next to her, chained to the ground with chains made from an odd metal.

They were black and red, but they didn’t seem to be painted. Nor did the boy’s hair seemed to be dyed, there were different shades of blue in his hair and when she tried to put her hand on his shoulder, the same chains dragged her to her knees and seemed to suck the energy out of her. 

“Ahalya?” he asked her, when Josephine blinked, she stared at him and the chains pulled on her arms. “She didn’t do anything, let her go!” 

He couldn’t have been that much older then her, Josephine was going to turn sixteen in December, and he looked to be only two years older then she was. A strange staff made of ebony wood was lying in between them. 

It looked like a staff straight out of a fantasy movie, or even a game of DnD, something that would belong in any movie with wizards or mages. 

“This is the warrior you’ve called to your aid, Seal of Solomon?” a man asked. 

“Dracula wanna-be,” Josephine whispered, he was dressed head to toe in old fashioned black clothing, with a clock wrapped around his shoulders to top it off. Something that would belong in a cheesy horror film.

But even Disney was moving away from the villains wearing all, or mostly, black. Even if the likes of Ursula and Ja’far were some of her favourites. 

Ignoring the Gothic Vampire Wanna-be, she searched for the lock on the chains preventing her from moving off her knees. If there were chains, there had to be a lock and if there was a lock, she could pick it.

She and locks had an understanding, an understanding that would most likely have her watched by police or put into juvie if they knew. That understanding had gotten her out of trouble more times then she cared count. 

“Leave Ahalya alone,” Bluebird told him, she was slightly distracted by the golden butterfly disappearing into the chains. “Please, she’s been through enough. She has nothing to do with this!” 

“You’re the one who called her here, Seal of Solomon,” he told him, and Josephine wished she could stab him with the pocket knife she has hidden in her jean’s pocket. “An ancient power, a strong one….” 

“Is he always like this?” Josephine asked him, she had been able to pull her multi-tool from her left pocket, but she thought it was safer to keep her pocket knife hidden in her right one. 

Vampire Wanna-be was muttering to himself, but he had turned his back on both her and Bluebird. So, it was safe for to work on the lock she had found resting against her hip, her mind had also decided that it would be safer if she freaked out about the event later.

When it was safe to do so. 

“No,” Bluebird admitted as the man kept talking to himself, making Josephine wonder if he was sane to begin with. “Not since he got me about three days ago, he’s only called me by my name once.” 

“He kidnapped you?” she asked. 

“Here it is,” Dracula said putting his hand through her chest, pulling out a black short sword from it. “Yes, a true ancient power.” 

“Hang on,” she told Bluebird, taking the lock away from her hip, bending over and softly whispering something into it. Words that weren’t English or Spanish, but words that she somehow knew would work. 

“Him and the pretty lady,” Bluebird told her.

Pretty lady? Josephine thought as the chains disappeared. She needed to get that sword back from the Vampire Wanna-be, more so, if there was another person. Pulling Bluebird behind her, she looked at the sword in his hands.

“Nantosuelta,” Bluebird whispered behind her, Vampire Wanna-be dropping the sword and backing away from it. His hands glowing a soft gold colour, the same colour as her mother’s eyes. “Get it.” 

Josephine nodded, before picking up the sword. 

“She isn’t much, is she?” a female asked, Josephine turning quickly enough to drag the tip of the sword along her bare arm.

“Forgot your arm bands?” Josephine asked her, quickly making sure that Bluebird was behind her again. They weren’t going to lay another finger on him, she didn’t want to know what they had done to him in the last three days. 

Blood bright red against the black steel, she didn’t know how the woman wasn’t wearing something that covered her torso. Between the two of them, she was the one who ready for a fight, not Josephine. 

Maybe the woman wasn’t used to fighting someone who had something sharp in their hands, or they never needed to cover up. Why cover up, when you know no one was going to touch you? 

Still, it didn’t take a genius to know how to use a gun. Her organs would be the first target if someone truly wanted her dead. 

“Ahalya, I need you to repeat what I say,” Bluebird whispered as she bend backwards to dodge a kick, her arm stopping the next on. Sword going along the woman’s arm, she was going off pour muscle memory and she didn’t know where she had gotten this muscle memory from. 

Josephine might have been used to dodging gang members, but she was a runner. Not a fighter, that and the gang members from her small part of Boston weren’t as trained as the woman in front of her. 

They won’t get him, I won’t let them, Josephine thought to herself. Blinking when a thin golden wall appeared in front of her, stopping the woman’s kick from hitting her in the side of the head. 

“And Nantosuelta don’t complain,” Bluebird continued as the woman kept hitting the bubble, the Vampire Wanna-be watching from behind her. A small wooden stick in his hand, sweat on his forehead. “I know you missed her, I missed Ahalya as well. But that wasn’t nice, she almost died from you appearing out of nowhere.” 

Nantosuelta? Josephine thought. Who’s Nantosuelta? 

“What am I repeating?” she asked ignoring the woman’s curses as she continued punching the golden bubble. It was safer to worry about what she had to say, along with the fist that landed on the bubble’s walls every few seconds instead of the fact that Bluebird knew she had almost died a few weeks ago. 

“Spirit of Loyalty and Autism, with my energy as your source; I command thee to do my bidding,” he told her, turning her around and putting his hands on her shoulders as she lifted the sword to point at them. “Burn the heavens; Nantosuelta.” 

Repeating what he said, flames gathered around her arms, the golden wall in front of her disappeared as it did so. Slowly taking her sword arm back, she quickly swinged her arm back and the flames went straight towards Bluebird’s kidnappers.   
Fire quickly blocked her vision; something made a loud bang and she was thrown backwards.


End file.
